


Don't Let Me Let You Go

by brieIarson



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:47:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23083450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brieIarson/pseuds/brieIarson
Summary: "The night was insignificant and so was T.K. Strand."
Relationships: Carlos Reyes (9-1-1 Lone Star)/TK Strand
Comments: 3
Kudos: 150





	Don't Let Me Let You Go

The night was insignificant, and so was T.K. Strand.

It was a full moon; the astronomical body unveiling its nugatory light to the dry, Texan land. It was the only light in his eye of darkness, as he kneeled before the man leaning on the brick wall.

A man’s moans echoed through the tight alleyway, asking, no - begging, for more. His hand ran through his shaggy hair, tugging on it when he reached the peak of his pleasure. And it’s not that T.K. wasn’t enjoying the feeling, the feeling of being needed by someone, it was simply that it was the wrong person that needed him.

“God, yes - fuck! That’s so good” The man murmured, breathing woodenly. T.K. groaned as the man tried to prise his head towards him. “Take it,” He said in a growl. T.K. liked to be used in this way, abused into submission; he wanted to be a toxic addiction to someone else because he himself was addicted. 

The man’s pitched increased, his face clenching as he released into his mouth. T.K. didn’t shutter, nor did he haver, he simply accepted the goo into his mouth. He stood from his kneeling position. He spit into the ground beneath him, wiping his lips with bare arm. Pretending to eliminate the activity from his mental catalog. It felt better to do things in the moment, not to remember the regret in the days that followed. 

The man stood next to him, pulling on the zipper of his jeans, clasping the button closed. “That was - amazing,” He said trying to catch his breath from his climax.

“Yeah-yeah” T.K. sighed, flattening the wrinkles on his shirt with the palm of his hands.

The man reached over for a small kiss, a closure to their adventure, but T.K. simply stepped away, declining his offer.

“Okay” The man drawled out, “it was nice to meet you, we could - should do this again.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever” T.K. breathed out, walking away from the man, who stood back in shock, stupid to T.K.’s behavior. T.K. didn’t even bother to turn around at the man’s distant shouts, and instead, he kept walking through the thick air.

It almost felt impossible to breathe, like the air was suffocating him every time he inhaled, and the release of an exhale was choking him too. But the unsettlingly feeling didn’t cause him panic, it was a simple side effect that he gained accustomed to. Although that disturbed him too. 

He didn’t know where his feet were taking him, he just followed the natural drift of the slight wind. The GPS in his head not even calculating his location. He followed the light of the moon that was shining on him before, he followed the details of the pale objects: the dead grass, the faded stop sign, the cars that were parked on the side of the road, the apartments and houses that we’re silent in the dead of the night...

He stopped in the driveway of a familiar homestead. His eyes dilating as he came to his senses. Lights pulled behind him, causing him to see his shadow on the garage door. The lights turned off, leaving T.K. in the darkness once again. He could hear the car door opening and closing, and the rattle of his keys advancing toward him. But nothing alerting him more than the sound of a voice. 

“T.K.?” The bosom voice asked. He circled T.K., his brown eyes meeting his own glassy ones. “T.K., are you okay?” He asked with concern radiating from his eyes.

“Um, I didn’t mean - I wasn’t” T.K. stuttered looking around him, but Carlos’ eyes never left his. “I’m sorry,” He said softly, a heavy exhale leaving his lips. He felt embarrassed to be standing in his driveway, crying as a teenager would. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay” Carlos whispered pulling him into a soft embrace. T.K. could feel the warmth of Carlos’ skin, almost dissolving into the hug. He was the physical embodiment of the sun; he was benevolent and humane, but in needed situations, he was confrontational and dominant, but in any circumstance, he always emitted heat. “How about we get inside? Okay?” He asked, breaking T.K.’s thoughts, although he was sure he wasn’t going to take no for answer, especially when he looked this way. Carlos dragged his hand from T.K.’s arm to his hand, clasping it softly.

The pair entered the tenebrosity of his house, causing T.K. to stumble. Carlos placed his keys in the green bowl by his front door, leading the dyad to the living room, turning on the overhead lights. The lights caused a sense of relief to rise in T.K.. He couldn’t help but laugh at himself, he was afraid of the dark.

Carlos sat him down on the couch, immediately wrapping a blanket around him. It smelt like him, the distinct scent of pinewood and iris. He could hear the remote sounds of Carlos in the kitchen, his footsteps retreating to the bedroom. 

T.K. lost himself again in the span of Carlos’ leaving. He was changing, that was his probability, but T.K.’s thoughts laid out: he was alone again, he would always be alone. But Carlos soon returned, a small smile still plastered on his face like it never left. He was now dressed in an APD t-shirt that clung to every inch of his torso, and sweatpants that matched. 

“Hey,” he said softly, sitting on the coffee table.

“Hi” T.K. responded, almost unwillingly.

“I brought you a set of extra clothes, they’re mine, so they might be big, but-” T.K.’s mind failed to keep up with his words. He lost himself staring at the fragile features of his face; his eyes were big with compassion, the russet color was a color of trust, his smile was luscious and placid, and there was always a want from T.K. to attached himself to them. 

“Hey, did I lose you?” His sweet smile prevailed once again, drifting him back to consciousness.

“I’m sorry,” T.K. said on instinct.

“Don’t be,” Carlos said in return. He was too polite, T.K. thought, Carlos didn’t deserve this, to be used in this way, he didn’t deserve to have T.K. waltz into his home and abuse the power that he had over him. “Here,” He said, holding the clothes in front of him, “Change, it might help.” 

T.K. nodded, grabbing the clothing from his hands, his own hands resting on his for a second to appease himself. Carlos stood up again, waiting for T.K. to follow, although he already knew where he was going. Carlos opened the wooden door to a clean bathroom, the lights making the grey countertop reflect its fluorescent light. T.K. just stood outside of it, almost awaiting permission to enter.

“If you want to talk a shower, that’s okay too,” Carlos said, “There are towels under the sink if you need them.”

“Okay” was the only response T.K. could muster. 

“I’ll be outside if you need me.”

T.K. stood silent in the center of the bathroom. He refused to look at himself in the mirror, afraid that the person he would see would not be the person that he knew himself to be. He looked at the shower, before setting himself in motion at a slow pace. He turned the shower on, the noise filling the stillness of the room. He stripped himself down, a chill shooting down his spine.

The water was hot, and T.K. liked it that way, it stimulated the nerves in his body to wake himself up, drifting him awake from the state of his being. He looked at the bottles of shampoo and conditioner, he almost hesitates; to smell like him, to breathe in his own aura and be reminded of him seemed desperate, but he obliges. The scent is woodsy and floral, two contrasting scents that gracefully work together in unison, neither scent too overbearing. 

He didn’t know how long he had been in the shower, but the hot water had turned cold which made him shiver. He turned the value, the water abruptly stopping, the water and leftover soap running down the drain. He grabbed the towel that was sitting on the toilet, wrapping it around himself. The man stood, looking at himself in the foggy mirror, his body and face distorted, but even then, it was the clearest picture he had seen of himself. 

He looked at the clothing on the countertop; it was a black t-shirt marked with the words “Charlie’s Run,” and grey sweatpants. Carlos was right, they were baggy on him, but he didn’t mind. 

He exited the bathroom, following the noise to the kitchen. He watched as Carlos stood at the stove, dancing to the beat of his own drum, something T.K. had admired about him. The man threw in colorful ingredients to a metal pot, almost smiling at his work. He turned around, smiling as he saw T.K.’s smaller figure.

“Hey,” He said in a delicate voice, but T.K.’s eyes never left the pot. “Chicken noodle, my mom’s recipe, she swears by it” He chuckles with an amused expression. He never talked much about his mom before, and that piqued T.K.’s interest, but who was he to ask.

“Why don’t we go sit on the couch?” Carlos suggested in which T.K. nodded. He followed Carlos, keeping his distance; he had already been invading his home, there was no need to invade his personal space. T.K. sat on the couch, remembering the vibrations of his previous encounter on the couch.

“You don’t have to talk now, you don’t have to talk at all, but I want-I need you to know that if you do decide to talk, I’m here to listen,” Carlos said sitting in front of him as he did before. He paused, waiting for a response from T.K., knowing the probability of him not even having one. Carlos stood from the coffee table but was stopped by the cold hand of T.K. on his wrist, pulling him back.

“Can you just-talk to me?” It was the most T.K. had spoken, and Carlos took that as a good sign.

“Yeah, sure, what do you want to talk about?” He asked.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“You mentioned your mom, you don’t talk about her a lot,” T.K. said in a cowering voice, almost believing that he was asking too much from him.

“My mom?” Carlos questioned. T.K. responded with a slight nod, avoiding his curious eyes. “Well, I don’t know much about my biological mom, I mean, I do know she’s in El Paso, she’s got a boyfriend and two kids, her favorite color is purple.” T.K.’s head lifted, his eyes telling Carlos that he didn’t know and wouldn’t have asked but Carlos just laughed.

“T.K., it’s okay,” Carlos said, “I trust you as you trusted me that night, I trust you.”

What have I done for him to trust me, T.K. thought. He had asked for so much from Carlos and yet the man never asked for anything in return. He was too good of a person.

Carlos prolonged his thought, waiting for the right words to come to him. “My foster moms’, I know them, I know my foster siblings, and that’s all that matters.”

“Siblings?” T.K. asked, again retreating at his intrigue on the topic. 

“Yeah, I got 10 of them,” He said with regale laugh.

“10?”

“10” He confirmed. “Here” He said standing up from the table, walking to a shelf, running his hands across the books. He pulled out a yellow scrapbook, bringing it back to T.K. as he flipped through the pages. He placed the book in his hands, facing the picture of 11 beautiful children. They were all different, they all had their own characteristics that made them special. T.K. smiled at the picture, noticing a younger Carlos standing near the end of the long line.

Carlos turned the page for him to a picture of him and his moms' hugging with beaming smiles. “That was my 18th birthday” Carlos recalled. 

“Where are they?”

“San Antonio.”

“Do you ever visit?”

“When I get that chance.”

“Do you miss them?”

“All the time.”

Silence filled the room again as T.K. looked at the picture, running his finger softly over the ink of Carlos’ face. He was simply beautiful, a sweet creature placed in the harsh reality of their world.

“Thank you…for sharing this with me” T.K. smiled up at the man, closing the yellow book. “I know that I probably don’t deserve this, any of this, so thank you.”

“You don’t deserve it?”

“Why would I?” He asked, puzzled by Carlos’ confusion. “I mean, I just take, and I take, and I have nothing to give. I stand in your driveway in the middle of the night, for what? For you to-to let me, take a shower, eat your food, I don’t deserve that, any of that.”

“Tyler, I don’t think you realize just how much you give to everyone else. It’s not selfish to want something, to take something that you deserve. You deserve to be loved, you deserve to know just how much you mean to me, your dad, the-the firehouse. You’re kind. You’re giving. You dedicated your life to saving people, to risk your own life to save someone else’s” Carlos spoke, “Tyler, look at me.”

T.K. refused, holding himself with his hands. 

“Tyler” Carlos pleaded, he reached for his hands. They’re warm. He held T.K.’s hands, his thumb rubbing the tops of T.K.’s hands in a sign of reassurance. “I mean it, you’re too good of a person to not see the things you deserve.”

“I’m sorry I’m doing this to you” He muttered.

“Stop. Stop doing that” Carlos rushed. He placed his hands on T.K.’s red cheeks, moving is head to make direct eye contact with him. “If I thought you were a burden, I wouldn’t have reached out to you all those times, I wouldn’t have brought you in my home, I wouldn’t have offered a shower, I wouldn’t have done those things.”

“Car-”

“Let me finish, Tyler,” Carlos said, “I see you – I see all of what you’ll show me, and I won’t turn away from it, I won’t turn away from you. I don’t want simple. I want to be challenged. And if you are my challenge, let me take it.” 

“I’m gonna break your heart,” T.K. said almost like he wasn’t listening to the words Carlos had been confessing to him. “You’re gonna trust me with your heart and I’m gonna break it, and hurt you, and I don’t want to do that. Not to you. I won’t let that happen.”

“Tyler Kennedy, I would rather have my heart broken by you than never have you at all,” He said delicately. T.K. looked at him with childish eyes, the tears that were forming in them had fallen to his soft cheeks, staining them with trails of water. Carlos wiped the tears with his thumb, spreading them across his cheeks. “One day you’ll realize how deserving you are, and once you do, you’ll realize just how good you are.”

The timer in the kitchen echoed, the violent ringing echoing through the house. Carlos pulled his hands away, believing he had pushed too far and he had become overbearing. He stood from the coffee table, nodding at T.K. with a small smile.

“I want to trust you, I want to give you everything that you deserve, but I don’t have enough to give. I want to fall in love with you, I want to touch you, I want to see you, I want to see what you’ll show me, and I want to never look away from you” T.K. admitted looking at Carlos with fear in his eyes. He had never opened up to him in this way, he had never exposed himself in that way before.

“I won’t ask you to” Carlos responded with a cheeky grin. “Come on, the soup’s done.”

“Okay.”


End file.
